


While They Sleep

by WinchesterSixx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cranky Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, sam winchester is messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 01:48:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20940275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinchesterSixx/pseuds/WinchesterSixx
Summary: What does Cas do when the bunker is asleep?





	While They Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> This stuck in my head as a conversation between Cas and Charlie. It was a nagging thing that wouldn't shoosh until I agreed to jot it down. Then it wouldn't let any other work get done until it was complete. I dont read fluff, let alone write it. I am an angry angst ridden woman. But something about this wouldnt rest. So here yall go. I hope it gets the feelings flowing for you like it did for me.

Charlie fought with insomnia. Her brain worked too fast and wouldn't quiet down long enough to let her body reboot sometimes. In the middle of a case that was mostly research, she would stay close to the Winchesters. Spending the night in the bunker made the most sense, but nights in the bunker were long. She could have woken Sam after a couple hours and suckered him into another round of “Where’d This Ghost Come From”, but the guy needed to rest his noggin. Dean would always wake up for a rewatch binge of this or that, but he earned his sleep after a day of self loathing and guilt. Poor guys.

This time though, Cas was there and it gave her company and conversation that her laptop library just couldn't. She still couldn't get over the fact that an actual angel was quickly becoming one of her best friends. Oh, the things she could teach him! Seriously though, a friggin’ angel!

Tonight was one of those nights. The four of them had sat around the library table and plowed through stacks and stacks of lore. The Men of Letters were thorough, she had to give them that. However, they kept everything! Sure, fifty years ago you couldn't just make a spreadsheet and cross reference everything to death. She understood that, but she had planned to add to Sam’s system during her late night bunker tour tonight. 

But then Cas offered to make coffee. It wasn't as good as Dean’s, but it was hella better than Sam’s. Charlie joined Cas at the table and snacked on a cookie (made by the Mother Hen Hunter named Dean Winchester) and talked about everything and nothing until the subject turned to lack of sleep and why Charlie was in the kitchen while the other humans slept.

“So, wait. What do you mean you don't sleep, Cas? I mean, like at all? Look, I know you’re an angel…” In her excitement, cookie crumbs scattered across Charlie’s narwal teeshirt and a few dropped into her coffee cup. 

“It’s just not something angels need to do. Like eating or urinating. The body we inhabit isn't human while we occupy it. There’s no need for me to lay still with my eyes closed for eight hours. That would be eight hours wasted.” If Cas was gonna be honest, he wouldn't have eight hours to spare being with the Winchesters. Sam rarely slept more than six hours and Dean’s broken four hours may have spanned over an entire night, but it was rarely consecutive.

“You don’t get tired? Or bored, even? You’ve been around literally forever. What do you do when everyone else goes night night?”

Cas had never been asked a question like this. What did he do? He actually had to stop and think. If he went back pre-Winchesters, pre-modern history even, he chased the sun. Somewhere on the planet someone was awake. It may be early evening in California, but it’s afternoon in Tokyo. The sun may be down in Venice, but Rio was in full swing. 

“I don’t know, Charlie. I traveled from place to place when I was on earth. I saw civilizations rise and fall. Certainly couldn’t get bored doing that, now could I?”

“Sure. I hear what you’re saying. But what about now, Cas.” Charlie was sitting with her legs crossed on the bench at the kitchen table with the heels of her hands, propping up her chin. 

Well, this posed a different take for Cas. Charlie was picking at the scab that covered the nitty gritty of it all. He could play it all off for his own sake, but she’d gotten him to thinking.

“I’m sure I don’t get bored. There’s a lot for me to do here in the bunker. There’s research, checking sigils, looking out for possible cases.”

“That’s all work, Cas. You don't take ‘Cas time’?” Her eyebrows bounced, clearly trying to convey an innuendo that he just wasn't catching. “Or maybe a hobby?”

A ‘hobby’. Cas really only had one interest, his friends and the people that had become his family. He tried to respect their privacy and only went to see them when they were awake and not indisposed, he didn't want to be a ‘creeper’ as Dean said. Well except then he stayed here in the bunker overnight. 

“Charlie, please understand, we angels, we don't have the same need to busy ourselves that humans do.”

“So, what? Do you just walk around for hours making sure your besties are alright?” Cas struggled to keep his composure and knew his face fell at the implication. “You DO! You tuck in the two most bad assed humans on the planet, don't you?” Charlie’s animated features had taken on a caricature quality. If her eyes got any bigger Cas was sure they would roll across the table. 

“No, I don’t ‘tuck them in’.” Cas was finger quoting and he scolded himself for doing it. That was something he was trying to work on. “I do watch over them, I suppose.”

“Chase away the nightmares?”

“Sometimes those nightmares get to be too much. They deserve to rest and not be haunted by things they have no fault in. I think we’re done here, Charlie. You should try to get some rest.”

Charlie watched the swirl of the hem of Cas’ trench coat as he turned the corner out of the kitchen. Standing to dump her cup out in the sink, she couldn't help but giggle to herself. He reminded of those Harry Potter fanfic tags. “Even the boogie man thinks BAMF!Cas is scary.”

#####

Cas honestly did wander around at night. Most of the time it was aimless. He traced the sigils with his eyes and made sure they were current and unbroken. Hex bags were moved from corner to corner, gifts from Roweena to keep the worst of black magic away. He refused to be complacent or too relaxed. Yes, the bunker was a gift, a needed repreve from the constant travel the Winchesters had lived with for decades, but it needed to be protected. 

Every so often, he’d find evidence that Sam had been around. A dirty sock sticking out from under the couch had to be tossed in a hamper. Empty coffee cups with dark sticky rings inside were gathered from shelves in the library and rinsed out in the kitchen before being wiped dry and put away. Dean was not just a neat freak, he was a control freak to boot. Anytime Sam left a mess, Dean took it as a personal affront. 

Too many times, Cas had seen Sam forget to switch the laundry from the washer to the dryer, only to have Dean explode with curses followed by a days worth of silent treatment. Thinking about it made Cas move to the laundry room to check on the wash, just to be sure. 

The weapons were always good to go, both Sam and Dean took care of that. Stocking up on supplies like Holy Oil was something Cas did. It was just easier to get if he did it and he was proficient enough that he was able to keep a five gallon urn on hand. Every so often a trip to Jerusalem was needed to restock.

The kitchen, another place that Cas would putter about in order to keep the peace. Cas would remove the expired take out and toss out leftovers that weren't recognizable anymore. The brothers loved each other, they really did. But the humdrum details of constantly being in each other’s space was enough to push anyone over the edge and he thought it best to remove anything that could light a fuse.

Tonight though? Everything seemed to be done. Charlie had taken the last of the notes with her and was doing, what she called, field research.She’d loaded up her little yellow car and gave them the Vulcan Salute. Cas always thought it was odd that she did this. Spock was so devoid of emotions on Star Trek while Charlie seemed to boil over with them. It worried Dean when she took off like this. Sam shrugged it off and told him she was fine. Dean though? He was sure that Sam didn't worry enough and something was going to end up happening to Charlie. 

Once Dean did an impression of what he thought Cas did while they all slept. He stood in the middle of the library with his hands hanging limply at his sides, staring at an object for a minute before choosing another to stare at. Sam smiled a little but then ended up doubled over when Dean reached in his pocket and pulled out a bit of lint and held it up to the light to examine it. 

“You really think I have nothing better to do than stand around here?” Cas did everything he could to look insulted by the insinuation. 

“Well, tell us what you do then, feathers. When the lights go down, what’s Ol’ Cas get up to?”

Cas had almost told him, just to put him in his place for once. Instead, he shook his head and walked out of the room. 

“Guess I’ll just wait here then!!” The combined sound of them laughing made it impossible to tell who was taunting him, but it didn't really matter either way. 

On more than one night, Cas heard them calling out in their sleep. Sometimes they formed words, other times it sounded like verbalized pain and anguish. Other times it was just plain sobs for people they’d lost. When he heard them, he’d go running, standing outside their doors to see if they could calm themselves or not. If it went on longer than Cas could bare, he’d slip into their bedrooms. Often, the shift in the air would pull them out of sleep enough to end the dream, but more often he’d need to intervene. Especially with Dean. 

Cas had seen Dean’s soul when he pulled him out of hell. It was fractured beyond repair, yet stayed held together by sheer will. Those fractures were deeper than he’d ever admit. One particularly bad night Cas found Dean drenched in sweat, stinking of fear. He called out Bobby’s name over and over. Mumbles of “don't leave me” and “I can't do this” were scattered here and there. Cas actually shook him awake that night. The concern was plain on his face and when Dean looked up at him confused and wide eyed, so he made up a story about a warding needing to up updated and needing two people. Sure, he had to duck the pillow Dean chucked at him, but at least the screaming stopped. 

Sam’s cries sounded completely different from his older brother’s. He sounded lost and small. Whines and shouts would bring Cas hurrying down the empty halls to his door. Sam seemed to be more proficient at self soothing, a true nod to the way he grew up, but just like with Dean, sometimes it was too much. When Sam did wake to Cas in the room, he’d look at him bleary eyed and beat his pillow into a new lumpy shape and flop over. Cas figured Sam had somehow worked him into the dream and that was explanation enough. 

The most common occurrence was when Cas could simply slide into the room and gently lay two fingertips against their foreheads and alter their dreams to something more calm. A simple suggestion could change running for your life to a brisk run in the morning, or a lake of fire into fishing on a pier. He knew the brothers preferences and played them accordingly. 

This was his duty. This was the responsibility he’d taken on. He would watch over them, comfort them. Even die for them. It was thankless, and he was ok with that. Or it was thankless until that day Sam pulled him aside.

####

“Hey, uh, Cas. Look, before Dean gets back I wanna say something.” Sam looked over the top of Cas’ head to the kitchen his brother had disappeared into, foraging for nachos. “I know I’ve been slacking lately, but I really appreciate you picking it up.”

With a tilted head and squinted eyes Cas thought hard about what Sam could be referring to. “What ‘slack’, Sam. I haven’t been picking anything up.”

“Dude, yes you have. I was dog tired the other night and I left my dishes on the map table. I went to bed and didn’t switch the laundry like Dean asked me to. I woke up this morning and ran out here to do it before he woke up and it was all done. Thanks, man. You saved me from that lecture.”

“Oh, well I just saw them there and figured…”

“It’s not the first time, Cas. I just wanted you to know, you don't have to, but I appreciate it.”

Cas didn't answer, he just nodded. If he was honest, he didn’t know how to respond to Sam. He tried so hard to stay small and out of the way in the bunker, he didn't know how he felt about being discovered. With a characteristic clap on the shoulder, Sam passed him and made his way to the kitchen to help Dean with chopping up toppings. 

#####

Cas returned to the bunker in the early morning hours of a fall weekend after chasing down a rogue angel who’d been killing cupids. The rooms were mostly dark except for a sliver of light that came from under the door of “The Dean Cave”. He thought the naming of a room was stupid and it obviously was not a cave. He didn't tell Dean that he thought it was endearing that the hunter had literally carved out a space for himself and named it after the fortress of his favorite superhero, Batman. 

Pushing the door open to peek inside, Cas found Dean asleep on one of the recliners. A half empty bottle of beer was dangerously close to tipping into his lap, so Cas decided to sneak in and set it on the table. Deans fingers twitched and jumped a little at the movement, but he didn't seem to stir more than that. Taking it as a sign that he was mostly resting peacefully, Cas pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and fluffed it open to allow it to fall over Dean’s legs. After tucking it in around socked feet, Cas stood up and noticed Dean was awake. Awake and smiling up at him. 

“You’re back. Everything all fixed?”

The low light from the TV made shadows dance over the edges of the bone structure he’d already memorized. “Oh, the cupids? Yes, I was able to track down the angel. Just some low ranking individual with a need to stir up fury. Anything important happen while I was away?” 

“Nope.” The word was cut off short while Dean stretched. “Easy stuff. Couple dead end ‘non cases’. Ended up with nothing but sightseein’ and a waste of fuel.” Cas nodded and tried to walk away, but Dean caught the sleeve of his trench coat and turned him back. “So - uh, I noticed something while you were gone. I seemed to have, I dunno, an easier time sleeping when you’re here. Does that make sense?”

If Cas had a pulse, this is when it would quicken. Dealing with Sam was one thing, but Dean wasn't going to like it if he knew Cas was so near him while he was sleeping. Dean had set those boundaries years ago and he’d been crossing them ever since. 

“I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.”

“No, I don't think it is.” Dean’s gruff voice was barely above a whisper. “See, when you’re here and I’m having nightmares, I wake up and somehow I know I’m not alone. When you’re gone, they hit hard. I wake up, sweating so bad the sheets are soaked through. And every single time I feel alone, Cas. When you aren't here I feel alone.”

“Dean. You’re not alone. Your brother is right down the hall in his own…”

“Shut up, Cas.” There was an audible click when Cas closed his mouth. “Let me say thank you, alright? Thanks for looking after me...us. Things are better when you’re here and I want you to know that. Sammy can tell you himself, but I want you to know, from me, I know how much you do for us. I do notice it. Alright?”

Cas was struggling with emotions that he shouldn't be feeling for any human, but that he always ended but feeling for the Winchesters. He felt them for both of them, but always stronger for Dean. 

“Alright, Dean.”

“Now, if you aren't planning on doing Sam’s laundry or stocking up on holy oil, sit down and watch a movie with me.”

“Dean, I don’t…”

“Shut up, Cas.”


End file.
